


Scar

by 9r7g5h



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Genre: Fiction, Gen, General fiction, Literature, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9r7g5h/pseuds/9r7g5h
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had a collection of them, but the story behind that one was her favorite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar

**Author's Note:**

> Ashelybenlove, I read one of your tags, and it created this at four am in the car. I hope you and everyone else like it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wreck It Ralph. Disney does.

Even through her armor Tamora could feel the heat of the flames, the building around her beginning to discentegrate as the old, partly rotten wood reached its breaking point. Poking her head through the door, a winced crossed her face as a bullet grazed her cheek, forcing a retreat just as another hit the frame. “Kohut, you almost done,” she called behind her as she blindly returned fire, pausing for a moment when a pained wail told she’d hit a mark, “cause I could _really_ use some help out here.”

“Working on it, Tam,” her second in command called from the other room, voice strained as he struggled with the load they’d been sent to retrieve. “This box ain’t as light as it looks, and you try setting up a stable cargo transport beam when the floor keeps falling out from under your feet. See how long it takes you!” His explanation giving way to a stream of curses, Tamora growled as another round went off, forcing her back to avoid the rain of steel that would have loved to turn her into swiss.

“Well hurry it up, will you? And while you’re at it, explain to me how two of the Corps’ top marines got pinned by a bunch of backwater hicks that don’t even have a blaster, just a bunch of ancient damn guns.” Taking the hail as a chance to reload her own stolen, decrepit pistol, she waited for a lull to shoot, two more falling as her wild shots hit home. The losses didn’t seem to matter, though, for as she pulled the trigger and the chamber came up empty, the others began behind their leader, his voice low as he started to plan.  

To them, it didn’t matter the building was threatening to collapse over the side of the cliff and take them all with it. They wanted the box, and the box they were going to get.

“Kohut!”

“I got it,” the man called back, laughing as the low hum of the transport beam began. A moment later he was by her side, smiling through the soot and first degree burns that covered his skin. “Cargo is en route, slightly singed but good enough for the Commander. What’s our situation?”

“Ten left-none of whom are going to be very happy when they hear the box is gone-all armed with guns and enough ammo to take down a herd of hippos, my own has the accuracy of Markowski, I’m out of bullets, and, oh yeah, the damn building’s on fire. So, I’d say our situation is shot,” she growled with a glare, not waiting for a response to her words. “I want us out of here in two minutes, Kohut, or so help me I’ll-“

“Two minutes, Sarge?” 

“Did I fudging stutter,” she snarled, peeking around the corner to see their enemies grouping down the hall, preparing to rush them in one last attempt to steal the already long gone package. “I don’t care what you have to do, just get us out of here alive.” 

“Can’t say you didn’t ask for this,” Kohut replied with a smirk as he stood, casually glancing around the room as the ceiling began to buckle, raining embers and shards of flaming plaster around them. Motioning for her to stand as well, his expression turned cocky as he bowed, the formal gesture leaving her unprepared as he straightened and swept her into his arms, laughing as she yelped at the sudden contact. Shifting her into a better position, his grip tight despite her struggles, he carried her into the center of the room and prepared to run.

Straight at the window overlooking the four hundred foot cliff and swirling rapids below.

“Are you insane, Kohut,” Tamora screeched as she realized what he was about to do, fists pounding against his chest in an attempt to break free. “Put me down; I’ll take my chances with the damn hicks.”

“Not gonna leave you behind, Sarge,” Kohut refused, tightening his hold and hunching his shoulders protectively over her. “And I might just be,” he laughed as he ran, breaking through the wall to the empty space beyond, sending them falling to the water below, “but that’s why you wanted me on your squad.”

Whatever she had been about to say was lost as they hit and sank below the waves. 

\----

“The moment we get home,” Tamora gasped as her head broke free, limbs trembling as she pulled both him and herself to shore, “you’re getting demoted, confined to the kitchen for the rest of your tour, and, once you’re conscious again, I’m beating the ugly out of you.” Dropping to the ground as Kohut began to stir, coughing up rancid river water as she weakly pounded him on the back, it wasn’t until a few minutes later that he answered, voice weak as he fought to regain his breath. 

“You do that, Sarge,” he gasped, “and I’ll be the prettiest Marine there, even prettier than you.”

“A risk I’m willing to take to repay you for that stunt you pulled,” she laughed, half turned to smack him when a hiss interrupted, forcing Kohut upright to check on her, biting back a groan of his own as his protesting muscles moved. 

“Sarge, are you…” His voice fell silent and the color drained from his face as the wooden stub sticking out from the small gap in the armor over her stomach twitched as she tried to move again, the pain finally hitting as her adrenaline high wore off.

“Looks like you got a splinter, Sarge,” Kohut said shakily as he crawled to her side, slipping slightly in the mud as his weight shifted. “Good thing I brought a pair of tweezers with me, huh?” The standard issue emergency medical kit in the pack at his waist would keep her until they could get back to the shuttle and their medic could get to work, but it still shook him to see her injured. Out of the seven years he’d known her, this was a first, and not one he could say he was glad they were experiencing.

“It’s not that bad,” Tamora said as she swatted away his hand, though her eyes said differently, “see to yourself first, soldier. That’s an order.”

“Bu-“

“Do it, Kohut. Now.”

“You’re an ass, Tam,” Kohut growled as he pulled out a small jar of burn cream, swiftly spreading it across his face and hands where he’d been forced to remove his helmet and gloves to work on the beam. Freezing as she reached out for him, his glare only darkened as she covered a spot he’d missed, her smug grin as she patted his cheek almost enough of a reason for him to smack her had she not been hurt.  
He was almost willing to overlook that last detail for the satisfaction it’d bring. He’d at least feel better.

“If I’m going to make you the prettiest, I have to actually have something to smack,” she reminded him, her chuckled turning pained as the wood shifted, forcing her to fall silent as he set to work.

“You’re turn,” was all Kohut said in reply as he began pressing buttons on her armor, the top portion falling away to reveal the skin underneath.  
And only skin. 

“Sarge,” Kohut said as he looked at the sky, his cheeks tinted red as he tried to not look at his commanding officer, “if there something you would like to explain to me? Such as why you’re going commando?”

“Not particularly, no,” she replied cheekily, “but I got tired of wasting money on dry cleaning. Suite’s comfortable enough without the uniform underneath, and a lot easier to clean too, so why bother? Why,” she added teasingly, “am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Just shut up and let me work,” Kohut huffed as he finally pulled a small blanket and an analyzer from the kit, using the former to cover everything except her wound. Biting his lip as he scanned her, a relieved sigh left him as the extent of the injury showed itself on the screen: bad, but not as bad as he’d though. “Not much internal damage; it didn’t hit a major organ, at least, and it’s not all that deep, either. You’re just being a wimp,” he teased as he pulled out an extractor and knife, a smaller strip of cloth following a moment later.

“Say that again,” Tamora growled seriously as he knotted the cloth, all fun and games over at his comment, “and this stick will find a place in your-“

“Bite down,” Kohut interrupted quickly, pushing the knot between her teeth before she could finish her threat. “We don’t have time to wait for painkillers, so this is going to hurt.”

Without waiting for her to speak, without giving her any chance to tense, he grabbed the piece of wood with the extractor, slid the knife through the skin below, and pulled. 

Honestly, he was surprised, for although her hands clenched and sweat beaded her brow, Tamora refused to scream.

It didn’t take long after to clean out the wound and patch it up, pumping the quarter sized, six-inch hold and incision below with healing foam like he’d been taught before pulling out the good old fashioned needle and thread. It’d become clear to him stiches would be needed to keep the wound clean and closed as she’d shifted under his touch, mud coating her back and congealing in her hair as she waited for him to finish. Each stitch made him wince, though, for while first aid had taught him how to put them in, it’s never given lessons on how to do it neatly. 

She’d have a nice sized scar covering the lower right side of her stomach soon enough. 

“Almost done,” he muttered softly as he pulled sealant from the bag, smearing a glob across her would to temporarily protect it from infection and keep it clean, the best he could do under the circumstances. Dabbing a little onto her cheek where the bullet had grazed it, he smiling as he pulled the cloth from her mouth, one arm wrapped around her shoulders to help her sit up as the other held a canteen of water to her lips. 

“If that was supposed to hurt,” Tamora rasped as she pulled away, licking a stray drop from her lips before it could fall, “then you’re all a bunch of damn pussywillows.”

“And that’s why you’re the sarge, Sarge,” Kohut relied as he helped her back into her armor, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as he did so. For his own sake, more than hers. Once she was decent, he held out his arms toward her, this time asking. “Permission to carry you so you don’t run off, get yourself killed, and ruin all of my heard work?” Normally, he just would have offered her a hand to smack away as she stood on her own, but both had felt how weak she was while getting her dressed, the day of hiking, gun fights, breathing in smoke, having to pull him free of the water, and her wound- combined the hours she’d spent along on the planet fighting off giant man-eating rabbits before he’d found her-almost too much for her to take. Compared to her, he was still relatively fresh, and was trying, in his own way, to help her save face.

Plus, if she walked, it’d take them all day, and all day they didn’t have.

“Permission granted, and only because you asked so nicely,” Tamora consented a moment later, her head leaning against his shoulder as he gently lifted her into his arms. Glancing around, she pointed off to their right, nodding as she recognized their position. “Three miles that way will get us to our shuttle, and then we can get off this damn hunk of rock. Get a move on, Kohut; I haven’t eaten in two days, and I want to get home before breakfast.”

“On it, Sarge,” he said, but Tamora never heard him as he took off running, racing toward the ship and waiting medics who would patch her up better than he could have. 

By then, she had already fallen asleep. 

\------

For her men, the scar that formed from Kohut’s partly botched attempt at medical care (and Tamora’s following refusal to accept real help, instead just ordering the medics to slap a band-aid on it and let her get back to work) would be a reminder of the time, according to Kohut, she single handedly fought off over a hundred men armed with blasters, guns, and phasers while the city burned, pulled him out of the ocean he’d been stupid enough to jump them into after he’d knocked himself out, and all with a wooden stake the size of his arm sticking out of her. She’d remind them that it was only thirteen men, one burning building, a river, and six inches; the under-exaggeration only made them respect her that much more, and made the fact she’d been asleep in Kohut’s arms when he’d stumbled back into camp completely forgettable. 

For her, it just turned into another story that, when Felix eventually asked about the mark, began with the words “Well, this one time me and Kohut…”


End file.
